Twenty-five minutes later, a black sedan pulled into the parking lot. A neatly dressed driver stepped out and opened the rear door. Eleanor emerged slowly, leaning on a polished walking stick. She wore a cream-colored coat, simple shoes, and a small silver necklace. Nothing about her appearance seemed particularly extravagant, yet the driver treated her with the kind of respect usually reserved for someone extraordinarily important. She spotted me through the glass entrance and waved. I hurried forward to help her, but she smiled and shook her head. “I’m recovering, Christopher, not made of glass.” Inside, our receptionist looked up with her usual professional smile. “Good morning. Do you have an appointment?” Eleanor reached into her purse and placed a business card on the desk. “Please tell Gavin Mercer that Eleanor Whitmore is here.” The receptionist glanced down. Her expression changed so quickly that I almost missed it. She immediately picked up the telephone. “Of course, Mrs. Whitmore. One moment, please.” Before she could finish speaking, Gavin appeared in the hallway. He had probably been preparing to explain my absence to the remaining staff, but the moment he saw Eleanor, the color drained from his face. “Mrs. Whitmore!” he exclaimed, suddenly wearing the friendliest smile I had ever seen him produce. “What a wonderful surprise. We weren’t expecting you today.” Eleanor ignored his outstretched hand. “I understand you had an important presentation this morning.” Gavin nodded rapidly. “Yes, unfortunately, there was a scheduling problem. We had a serious disruption, and I was forced to make a difficult personnel decision.” “A personnel decision?” She glanced toward me. “You mean firing Christopher?” Gavin’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid he failed to meet a critical professional obligation.” Eleanor motioned for me to explain what happened. I told her everything, carefully avoiding exaggeration. I described the woman collapsing beside the road, the emergency call, the ambulance, and my arrival at the office after the clients had left. I repeated Gavin’s exact words about driving past someone in distress. When I finished, Eleanor stared at my former boss for several seconds. “You fired a man because he stopped to save a stranger’s life?” Gavin folded his arms. “I made a business decision. We had a responsibility to our client.” “And what was the name of that client?” she asked. “Whitmore Industries,” he answered. Eleanor slowly removed her gloves. “Excellent. Then perhaps we should discuss why Whitmore Industries should trust your agency with its business.” Gavin looked as though the floor had shifted beneath his feet. I stood beside her, still holding the cardboard box I had brought from my desk, wondering how the woman I had helped on an ordinary road could suddenly command the entire office’s attention. Then Eleanor added, “Before we discuss your presentation, there are a few things about your proposal that I would like explained.” She opened her handbag and removed a thick folder. Gavin recognized the documents inside. For the first time that morning, he looked genuinely frightened.
Continue The Story: PART 3: THE CLIENT GAVIN COULDN’T AFFORD TO LOSE